Candide and his Crime

The only fair in life I know is the bus fare.

Every experience which Candide has lived through can only be blamed on his own doings-he has had so many chances to prove himself a worthy thinker, and yet, he chose his ignorance over decent analytical skills. If punishing him for his lack of intelligence is what “the universe” or some other entity has dished out, then he deserves it. He may never understand why, but if he ever does, then he may be less dimwitted than I thought him to be.

It really does suck to not get away with something, to almost squeeze by with luck. Things do happen for a reason, and like a chain of events, our past catches up with us and snowballs into whatever we are meant to face in the future. You can get lucky only so many times, but once luck runs out, then all which is left are the outlines of our actions.

Eventually, we pay for our mistakes in some form or another. Physical punishment is just the same as mental punishment, if not, an easier sentence. 

Where was his conscious throughout the craziness of his life? 

Questioning the Question of How We Know What We Know

To be fair and honest, I don’t quite know how we know what we know. We seem to think so highly of ourselves because of our heightened awareness, yet even the largest universe or the smallest atom have the questionable power to make us doubt the rules of knowledge. 

A scientist will argue with microscopes and telescopes; a teacher with sources and documents; a theologian with principles and faith- but how much of what we collectively know takes part in how much I, the individual, know?

 Why must we give our senses the credit of knowledge? The brain is really what handles the dirty work of human functioning.What my brain signals to me as the almighty truth is nothing more than connections made by neurotransmitters. These little “messengers” tell all of my other senses what to do and how to do it, with death being the answer to their pestering whys.

 Knowledge is not matter- you can’t touch it. Nor is it an emotion- you can’t feel it. Knowledge is a scrapbook of answers, which will never be connected, no matter how hard we glue the pages together.

I question everything and how well I really know these points in my life. The more I try to rationalize with myself   and simply state to my brain, “This must be true because I had a firsthand account or was told of one”, the more I wonder how real these sensations are.

I like to think that there is nothing more to life than just what I can connect in my head, but somehow, I can’t. The possibilities of what I don’t know are infinite.

Knowledge is tempting and fairly easy to acquire, but understanding myself and how life's points are linked, is one grain of knowledge truly worth searching for

I thought this was funny. Really wanted to post this up